Margaret walked into the mess tent one evening in December, snorting in disgust at the pitiful Christmas tree standing in the middle of the tent.
"How can you call that pathetic thing a tree?" she asked Klinger who was seated at a table beside her. Klinger glared at her.
"Don't complain to me Major," he said, his face turning red with aggravation. "It took me three hours, four bottles of wine that Captain Pierce got from his father and all of his magazines to get that tree."
Margaret was surprised a bit by that. "All his magazines?"
Klinger nodded. "I tried to talk him out of it. I really thought the wine would be nice for Christmas Eve but he wouldn't listen, he insisted on having this measly tree."
Margaret smiled slightly, looking around the tent. "Is he here?"
"Don't ask me," he mumbled, "I've been looking for that tree all day."
Margaret sat down beside BJ and smiled. "What did Colonel Potter ask us in here for?" she asked, indicating all the personnel crowding into the tent.
"Well I'm sure we're about to find out." He said pointing behind her. Colonel Potter walked in the tent and stood up on a table.
"Well folks, I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here," he held up his hands as everyone began talking at once. "Now give me a chance. Christmas is only a week away and I've given Captain Pierce and Major Winchester the job of organizing a Christmas party."
Loud cheers went up around the room. "Now what I need everyone to do is go to one of the buckets beside the doors and draw one slip of paper out. We are going have secret Santa's."
There were more cheers and when everyone settled down Potter began to explain, for the benefit of a few who had blank expressions etched on their faces.
"For those of you who are not familiar with this tradition; everyone draws someone else's name and they give that person a gift anonymously. You are not allowed to trade names, and…" Potter realized everyone was ignoring him as they pushed towards the buckets. Margaret looked at the name she drew and chuckled. She looked up as she saw Klinger laughing to himself. She noticed Hawkeye out of the corner of her eye and began to make her way towards him. He was leaning lazily against a post, not attempting to retrieve a piece of paper.
"Why aren't you in that traffic jam?" she asked him. Hawkeye grinned broadly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I was the one who wrote out all those names, I got to pick whoever I want." He flashed a wicked grin before slipping out of the tent quickly.
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Margaret walked nervously into the large hospital. She couldn't believe she was in Boston. She was a little nervous; she had never been to a city as large as this, certainly not as beautiful and intimidating.
"Hello," she greeted the receptionist, who glared back at her coldly. "Uh, I was looking for General Travis' office," she whispered meekly.
"Down the hall, make a right at the end; take the elevator to the fifth floor and take a right. His room number is 523." The woman rattled off quickly.
Margaret nodded and fled down the hall, her head spinning in confusion. Margaret stepped off the elevator and looked around in befuddlement. She struggled to remember the woman's instructions as she began walking aimlessly down the quite corridor. After almost ten minutes of wandering Margaret began to panic as she looked around the deserted halls for someone to help her.
"Excuse me," she called as a nurse hurried by, ignoring her completely. Margaret slumped against a wall in despair. Her sister was right; she wasn't going to be any good at this sort of thing.
"Excuse me are you Sergeant Houlihan?" A man's booming voice reached her ears and she jerked her head up, hurriedly wiping away her tears in embarrassment.
"Yes sir," she said strongly, squaring her shoulders.
"I'm General Travis; you were supposed to be in my office at 0900 hours. Where were you?" His harsh voice reminded her a little too much of her father's tone of late.
"I just got a little turned around sir." She replied firmly. The general smiled cockily at the beautiful young nurse and stepped towards her, wrapping an arm casually over her shoulders.
"You know I like a nurse with a little spirit," he announced, Margaret cringing at the suggestive tone in his voice. "Have you always wanted to be a nurse Sergeant?" he asked, not really caring for the answer.
"Yes sir," Margaret lied blatantly. "My father is a Colonel, and my mother was an army nurse. I didn't really have a choice in the matter," Margaret added bitterly at the end, a hint of truth shinning through.
"Well the being a nurse in the United States Army is a noble job," he winked at her and smiled. "And if you play your cards right it can be a very rewarding job." He raised his eyebrows and Margaret began to feel very warm. An image of her father came to mind. Maybe, just maybe if she could get a promotion, and soon, she would be able to make him forget about her mistake with David. A mistake; that's what her father had been calling it and Margaret had often found herself referring to it that way as well.
Margaret looked up at the general and smiled seductively. "I'm a good card player."
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Margaret walked into her tent and sat down on her seat in aggravation. She looked down at her slip of paper again and groaned. There was no denying it, the slip clearly read Captain B.F. Pierce. At first Margaret thought it would be rather fun to find a gift for him, but the more she thought about it the more nervous she became.
"Oh forget it," she muttered angrily, throwing the slip of paper into the tiny stove. She would think about it tomorrow, right now all she wanted to do was sleep.